The Lone Piper
by Charles Basilone
Summary: Oliver's a proud Scotsman. His journey through life, as a collection of moments where his Scottish pride was on display. Some sweet moments, some sad ones. Katie/Oliver, too. Character death, though not one of those central to the story I tell, still not an easy one. Slight AU to have some fun with the ages.


Disclaimer: I'm a dude, J.K. Rowling isn't.

Oliver's proud of his heritage. He's a Scotsman through and through. He may root for a south coast team, but don't let that fool you. His clan is from the lowlands and is mostly muggle, except for his pureblood strain of wizards that somehow evade detection. He grew up in kilts. He learned to play quidditch in one, but that's not an experiment he recommends. Way too hard on the bits. But he's also played the pipes for as long as he can remember.

* * *

First year, he's laughed at for his accent. They mock him but he doesn't react too much. He's going to play quidditch next year, and that'll show them. He's going to be unstoppable. He borrows the school brooms every spare minute to fly. He doesn't practice his pipes for half of the first term. It's not until he gets a letter from home that he thinks about his pipes, or his kilt and mandarin collared ensemble that his family insists he wears for special practices in secret, out on the grounds. The pipes are a noisy monster, and he doesn't want to be teased more than he is. He doesn't put on the kilt. He tries to tone down his accent. And for the love of God, he doesn't dare play for anyone.

* * *

It's accepted that the beech tree on the grounds is the Gryffindor tree, and has been as long as anyone can remember. Really odd, how that happened, he thinks pensively, walking under it. He's in his full piping ensemble, but no one's out here to see him. He finished his exams, and had ducked out of History of Magic early, scraping just enough sure points to stay on the team as an eligible player before leaving. He'd gone up to his room and changed into his piping clothes, from his kilt to his glengarry, and grabbed his pipes before walking to the Gryffindor tree. It was a beautiful, warm day, and he wanted to practice in its peace for a bit. If anyone saw him, well, he was the star keeper of Gryffindor as only a second year. Charlie Weasley, the captain, said he had some real talent, and if he kept working, he could do some great things.

"If anyone gives you trouble for who you are, Wood, let me know. You're a good kid. I'd hate to see the identity stamped out of my new star, okay?" Charlie had told him, knowing Oliver had had trouble with some bullying previously. "Mind you, I don't think anyone will say anything now. You've got a bright future, kid."

So Oliver got his pipes out of their case and set them up, checking every part was in perfect condition, cautiously inspecting his reed. Satisfied, he positioned his pipes, his mouth on the blowpipe, sticking it out at an angle as was his custom. He started absently playing Scotland the Brave, the anthem of his home blasting from his pipes, his eyes shut as his fingers flew over the chanter, squeezing the bag when he needed a breath.

From Scotland the Brave he paused for a breath before flying into Campbell's Farewell to Red Gap. Slower than Scotland the Brave, he didn't do a great job of slowing it down and played it at a more lively pace than you were supposed to.

It wasn't until after Campbell's Farewell to Red Gap was over that he opened his eyes. A small crowd had formed in front of him, mostly older students, bu in front was a first year who he had bonded with over their shared love of quidditch, Katie Bell, her wide blue eyes staring at him. They all seemed to be looking at him expectantly. Well, if a concert they wanted, a concert they would get. He mentally ran through his repertoire of songs, from slow marches to lively dance tunes, all the way to slow airs. ( _Wait just a wee tick- I could play Going Home. That'd be fitting, wouldn't it?_ ).

So he started into the lament, its mournful notes filling the air, bringing the school's typical Scottish chill into the warm, bright day. His eyes closed once more as he played, but his fingers no longer flew over the chanter but moved slowly, as if they, too, were filled with sadness.

When he finished, he opened his eyes to see that lots of corners of eyes were damp, that everyone had sad smiles on their faces. They may be going home, he realized, but in so many ways, this was their home. The crowd clapped politely and broke up, going their separate ways as he packed his pipes up.

* * *

His end of year concert at the beech tree became something of a tradition, and he played it the next two years, changing only the songs, never the time or place. His last song was a fixture, though, he didn't ever intend to change. Going Home was simply too beautiful and too appropriate to replace. The concert grew from a small knot of people to a crowd, and his new friends from the quidditch team were always there. He'd added a special lament for Charlie's departure, something the whole team had mourned, but none more than himself and Katie, who he had become quite close to despite being a year older than her.

It wasn't until his fifth year that the concert changed. He played it as normal, and people from across the castle came to watch as they always did.

What was different was that a little first year boy had been there, with a Scottish accent and a shy smile, like he was just now realizing there were others at Hogwarts who were raised in traditional households, and that it was okay to let the world see that heritage.

After he was done, Oliver called out to the kid as he put away his pipes.

"What's your name, lad?"

"Macmillan. Ernest Macmillan."

Oliver recognizes the name. They're quite rich, the Macmillans, made a fortune off of demiguise wool for invisibility cloaks.

"Where're you from?"

"Iverness."

"You get made fun of for your accent?"

"Yeah," Ernie said, sounding ashamed.

"Be proud of who you are. Anyone makes fun of you, let me know, I'll knock some sense into 'em, okay?"

"Thanks."

"Do you play quidditch or the pipes?"

"A bit of quidditch. I'm going to try out next year, but I'm not going to make it until the year after. No openings. Can't play the pipes."

"If you don't make it next year, I can help you practice if you'd like. If you want to learn the pipes, I can teach you that, too."

"You could? I've always wanted to learn!"

"Of course. Just come find me next year, okay?"

"Yeah!"

And as he runs off, Oliver stares sadly after him, disheartened that the only ones who had been kind enough to do something like that for him had been the Weasleys, an Irish family transplanted to Devonshire that was just as maligned as he had been. He doesn't notice Katie walking up behind him, her brown hair swaying in its ponytail, a smile on her face.

He does notice, however, when his best friend kisses his cheek and says, "That was a really nice thing you did for that kid, Oliver."

"Had to. I couldn't help but see younger me in him."

"That doesn't make it any less nice. You're a good man, Oliver."

"Thanks, Katie."

And now it's Katie he's staring after as she walks away, watching her hips sway ever so slightly and her ponytail bounce, wondering why a kiss on the cheek from his best friend has his heart racing and his head so messed up.

* * *

The last end of term concert is his longest ever. It goes on for an hour and a half, and the beech tree is surrounded the entire time. He sees Weasleys, especially the twins, who he has come to love; Ernie, who he's become close to after teaching him pipes for two years now; Seamus, a young Irish third year known for blowing himself up; Harry, his brilliant young seeker, though he's Katie's seeker now; Professor McGonagall, the formidable deputy headmistress herself a Scotswoman; and of course, he catches a glimpse of beautiful brown hair and flashing blue eyes and it's Katie, who somehow went from his best friend to his girlfriend sometime over the last two years.

His set for this one gets slow towards the end. The Gael is followed by Hector the Hero, which leads into Amazing Grace. He takes a moment to pause after that hymn, to breathe deeply and look around before he begins his final song in this last end of term concert.

As he starts on Going Home, his eyes settle on Katie Bell. She's his home in so many ways now it's not even funny. They had been friends his second year, her first, because they both loved quidditch. The year after that they became teammates and by fifth year they had become inseparable. Now, though, he knows he loves her, six years after the first concert. He's a much better piper now, so he decides that rather than doing his usual arrangement of Going Home he'd spice it up a bit and show off for her, adding embellishments and grace notes where they feel appropriate.

At the end, everyone is clapping, and quite a few are crying. McGonagall has tears in her eyes, though they don't fall. The Weasley twins look sad to see their captain go, as does Harry. Ernie has a big grin on his face but tears in his eyes. That grin is nothing, however, compared to Katie's beautiful sad smile, looking at him clearly in love though neither of them have said it, tears shining in her eyes as she comes up to him to give him a quick kiss. His heart races as they break apart, both from the neverending exhilaration of kissing Katie and because McGonagall's right there, his last act as a student will be either to lose house points or serve detention and he's not sure which is worse. But McGonagall just gives him a smile and turns away silently, walking back to the castle.

* * *

He'd had two years of playing quidditch for Puddlemere and the pipes for fun when the war broke out. Katie had moved in with him after graduation, though she was playing for the Harpies, and that led to some rather exciting tension at times. But the war meant the pipes largely went away because when he wasn't playing quidditch he was on errands for the Order.

It isn't until the news that there's a battle at Hogwarts that the pipes return. Pipes were used in war. Supposedly they were used to terrify enemies. So when Oliver and Katie go to the fight, he's in full piping ensemble, complete with pipes.

Throughout the battle, chaos would break out when the loud, ringing notes of the pipe would sound. Oliver alternated between piping and fighting, doing his best to cover Katie but also trying to go where he is most useful.

After the battle, lying in the hospital wing next to Katie, his pipes laying on the ground next to their broken bodies, he realizes he's made a horrible mistake. He's wearing his kilt as God intended, and he's now laying down in mixed company. He pushes these thoughts away and pulls Katie closer, cuddling her to remind himself she's still alive.

* * *

The next time he plays the pipes is against his will, in some ways. George asks him to play for Fred, and God, it's hard. He had to choose a song, which was agonizing. Eventually Katie suggests Highland Cathedral, a song both he and Fred had adored.

When the time comes, he's at the funeral, and he has to pause before he can play because it wrenches him in two to lay Fred in the ground. But he plays it, tears streaming down his face. And when he's done, he lowers his pipes and takes Katie's hand and they're both weeping as they watch George say his final goodbyes. ( _God, he has to look in the mirror and see Fred every day for the rest of his life. That's going to crush him_.)

* * *

It's three years later and they're healing. They're not whole yet, not by a long shot, but they're doing better.

Today he's marrying Katie and can't help but think he's the luckiest man alive.

He's in his piping garb because his family pressured him to have a traditional wedding, but he doesn't mind. Ernie's his piper today and he's so proud of how far the kid's come on the pipes.

He glances over his shoulder to see Katie with Fred, his best man. They're on The Wedding Walk Right now, and Fred his best man is escorting Katie while he escorts Angelina Johnson, Katie's maid of honor. He can't help but smile at the little choker Katie insisted on making and wearing, fashioned from the tartan pattern of the Clan Wood. She's beautiful.

* * *

Fourteen years later, and it's August 31st, the night before their son's first year at Hogwarts.

"Katie, honey, what did I forget when I was checking Fred's bag?"

"You checked he had his uniforms, right?"

"Yup. Uniforms, books, parchment, quills, ink, blue jeans and t-shirts for the weekends."

"I know! His kilt!"

"Of course, that's what I didn't ask about. But I did see him put all his piping stuff in his trunk, love. He's got it,"

"Well then," said Katie, "He's going to be just fine, won't he?" As she leaned in and gave her husband a quick kiss.

Fred Wood did not appreciate it when, the next day, his father showed up to King's Cross to see him off in full piper's ensemble, with his laughing mother beside him.

 **A/N: So, I wrote this because it popped into my head. Let me know what you think. Sorry it's not another chapter of my ongoing PJO story The Silent Service for those of you who read that. My obligations are as usual drowning me. The next chapter should hopefully be up next weekend.**

 **Very respectfully,**

 **Charles Basilone**


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